Siege: A Borrowed Magic Novella (5 page)

His face went red. “How dare you! I am a
king. You are nothing but a girl a weak monarch sent because he has
no other options.” He turned to his guards. “Throw her out. And
don’t do it gently.”

The grip on her arms tightened, dragging her
from the room so quickly she could barely get her feet under her,
causing her arms and shoulders to take most of her weight. She
screamed in agony but her cries were ignored. Then she was dumped
in a heap outside the gates, landing hard on her shoulder. She lay
there until she could bear to stand and then stumbled towards her
horse. But mounting was impossible – and no one offered to help
her. She settled for grabbing the reins and leading the horse away
from the castle.

And vowed to never come back.

“Miss?”

Maren rolled over and pulled the blankets
closer. Soft blankets.

Her eyes sprang open and she sat up, only to
fall back onto the pillows as the world spun around her and pain
ripped through her shoulder.

“Where am I?”

“In Toreweth. In King Edwin’s castle.”

She picked through her memories. She’d been
thrown out of Senred’s castle. That she remembered well. Then it
got a bit hazy. She’d managed to get on top of her horse by
climbing an old wooden fence but had almost passed out in the
process. Then she’d steered the horse towards Torweth, and…that’s
where everything went blank.

“How did I get here?” she asked.

“You were found unconscious on your horse
just inside the border,” the maid said. “You had a letter in your
pocket from your king, so you were brought here.”

“How long ago?” She was almost scared to
ask.

“Yesterday afternoon.”

Not as long as she’d feared. But still too
long.

She forced herself up again, sucking in a
pained breath, and then pushed herself to her feet. To say she
wasn’t steady was an understatement, but she grabbed the bedpost
until the world stopped spinning.

“I need to see King Edwin,” she said.

“Are you sure, miss? You don’t look at all
well.”

Maren nodded. “I’m sure.”

Ten minutes later, Maren sat in Edwin’s
throne room. She tried to rise when he entered, but he motioned her
to stop.

“Lady Maren, you’re obviously exhausted. Why
don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

“I came for aid on behalf of Tredare. We need
help to defeat Kern.”

Edwin shifted in his seat. “I don’t know how
you think I can help,” he said slowly. “You need mages.”

“And you have them.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I wish I could
help you. I truly do. But for the sake of my people, I can’t.”

Even Edwin was a part of whatever agreement
had been made with Kern.

“I see.”

“No,” he said, his eyes begging for her
understanding. “I don’t think you do.”

She straightened her shoulders. “I’ve been to
all four of the other kingdoms. They’ve all refused aid.” She
paused, meeting him eye to eye. “I’ve talked to Senred.”

Edwin paled.

But at least Edwin had taken care of her. And
there was a part of her, a very small part, that understood. Of
course Edwin wanted to believe that if he did what Kern asked, his
kingdom would be spared.

Too bad he was wrong.

Maren took a deep breath. “I do have another
favor. A personal one.” She pulled her dress down over her
shoulder. “I would truly appreciate the help of your mages in
healing this.”

Edwin took a step back, his eyes widening.
“I…I don’t know.”

“Please,” she whispered.

His shoulders fell. “All right. But this has
to remain secret. None of the other kings can know what I did.”

An hour later, she was lying on a bed
surrounded by too many mages to count. They poked and prodded until
she shouted at them. Then they asked questions. How long ago did it
happen? A little over a month. Has it gotten worse since? No. Does
it hurt? Obviously.

What mage would do such a thing?

“Kern.”

Silence.

And stares.

“I don’t know that we can undo a spell from
Kern,” one of them finally said.

Her heart sank. “Nothing?”

“We may be able to relieve some of the pain,
but I can’t promise anything.”

“I don’t need promises,” she said. “I just
want you to try.”

Trying turned out to be another word for
torture. Their magic surged into her shoulder time and time again,
and every instance was the same. She screamed – until she finally
passed out.

“We can’t heal it,” one mage said after she’d
regained consciousness again. “But I do have one last option. We
can try to contain it, use our magic to shield against the
injury.”

Maren tried to speak, but her voice was only
a thin whisper. She settled for nodding and prepared once again for
the pain. It came, just like it had before, only it didn’t last as
long.

And when everything was over, she was still
conscious. Even better, instead of the searing torture, her
shoulder felt…sore, like she’d spent the previous day lifting more
than she should have.

She reached up and pushed against it. It felt
bruised, but not broken.

Sinking back into her pillows, she muttered a
silent thank you. Then, for the first time in longer than she cared
to admit, she slept.

Six

They were everywhere. Men with dark eyes and scars
in too many places to count. And things that weren’t men, beings
created by Kern’s dark magic. Evil seeped from them into the
surrounding air, coating everything in a gloomy haze that perfectly
matched their goal.

To lay siege to the city of Delorme.

As far as Maren could tell, no cannon had
been fired yet, but the roads were blocked in and out. She’d gotten
here late the previous night and snuck into camp, posing as one of
the many serving girls brought for the sole purpose of being ogled
– and possibly more – by the men. She intended to get any
information she could and sneak back out before…she shivered…just
before.

The sun had touched the horizon. Torches had
been lit and word spread that the men were to gather at the main
tent. Maren followed, staying along the edges, trying to be
inconspicuous.

It seemed to be working – until Lord Kern
climbed onto a platform in front of the crowd.

She gasped, drawing the attention of the men
around her.

They laughed and one of them grabbed her arm.
“What? Did you think this was some kind of party?”

She tried to pull away but he only yanked her
closer. “We’re here for killing, my girl.” His arm slid around her
waist, and he smiled in a way that left her no doubt as to his
intentions. “And other things, when we have the time.”

He pushed his mouth against hers, only
seeming to relish it more when she struggled to push him away.

“Boys,” he called. “We have a fighter.”

Then another set of hands were there. And
another. And another. Their foul breath made her want to vomit.
Their laughter made her furious. But no matter what she did, there
was always another one with groping hands and hungry eyes. And it
seemed the more she fought, the more they enjoyed it, feeding off
her terror.

Which gave her an idea.

She stopped doing anything, let her knees go
weak in the current man’s arms, and pretended to pass out.

At which point he dropped her on the ground,
and she heard him slap one of the other men on the back. “We were
too much for her boys.” They all laughed, satisfied, as if they’d
accomplished something.

She didn’t move until she heard Kern’s voice
slither over the crowd. “Thank you all for joining my cause. I’ve
waited years for this moment, and I’m happy to have so many of you
here to enjoy it with me.”

The crowd raised fists to the sky and shouted
their support.

Maren inched away. Now that Kern had their
attention, she had a chance. Besides, she couldn’t listen to him.
Not and stay silent. Or rush the platform and try to strangle
him.

“Tonight we will lay siege to Delorme,” Kern
yelled, gaining him another round of cheers. “King Daric already
knows what it’s like to have those closest to him taken away. Now
he will know what it’s like to be trapped. We won’t stop until
every last one of them is dead. Tredare will be ours!”

The men were drunk on his words, thirsty for
death and war.

Maren crawled faster, until the voice and
cheers were muffled and the air didn’t press down on her.

Then she rolled on to her back and
sobbed.

Her eyes traveled to the city and then
further up, to the castle nestled against the mountains. How long
would it take? How long before life became a living hell?

She could run right now. She was no longer in
excruciating pain. She could search for Philip. She could keep
herself safe.

And deny Daric the knowledge she carried of
conspiracies and Kern.

No. She couldn’t. Philip didn’t want to be
found. He didn’t want her. Not anymore.

The crowd cheered again in the distance, and
her anger swelled.

Kern had been defeated once. Maybe he could
be again.

She straightened her shoulders and pulled
herself to her feet. If there was a way, the knowledge of how was
inside Daric’s castle, buried in her father’s books.

She was running towards the castle before she
even realized it. But not along the normal roads where Kern’s army
would see her. She headed for the cliffside, to a path that led to
a secret door.

It was covered in ivy, and her fingers were
scraped raw by the time she found the bolt. She pushed it aside and
shoved the door open, only to be grabbed by either arm and shoved
to the ground.

“Stop!” she called. “It’s me. It’s Lady
Maren.”

One of the guards knelt beside her and shined
a light in her face before letting out a long breath. “Let her go.”
He offered her a hand and pulled her up.

“I need to see King Daric,” she said.
“Now.”

The guard only nodded, barking orders at
those behind him to stay where they were.

They wove their way upwards through damp,
winding corridors until they stood before the great hall.

“I know where to go,” she said, and then
pushed the doors open.

Daric huddled around a table with his
advisors, barely glancing her direction as the door grated against
the stone. But then his head jerked around and he rushed forward,
enveloping her in his arms.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered.
“Adare thought you were dead.” He hugged her tight for another
minute and then stepped back, running a finger along her cheek that
made her wince. “What happened?”

She hadn’t even noticed the injury, must have
gotten it fighting the men, and could only imagine how she must
look. Bruised, hair a mess, crumpled dress. But she couldn’t tell
him the truth. Couldn’t relive it. Couldn’t see the horror in his
eyes as he worried about yet another thing. “Nothing,” she assured
him. “It’s nothing. I fell sneaking around in the dark, trying to
find the hidden door.”

His shoulders relaxed – a little – and then
his eyes met hers. “What did you find?”

“None of the kings are coming to help,” she
said in a low voice. “They’ve bargained with Kern for their
safety.”

Daric paled but his head remained high.

She paused, knowing it only got worse. “Kern
is in the siege camp. I saw him. He is determined to carry this out
until everyone’s dead.”

Now Daric’s shoulders slumped. “When?”

“Tonight.”

He turned back to his advisors, his face
suddenly older, and briefed them quickly.

Then his eyes found hers again. “And the
other thing?”

“Better,” she said. “Not the same, but
better.”

He gave her a small, sad smile.

It was extinguished a second later as a loud
crack split the air, and the ground beneath their feet shook.

It was beginning.

Seven

Maren was sick of the quarreling. It had only been a
week, a week spent planning and strategizing, and they still hadn’t
accomplished much.

She leaned over to Daric. “Are you still glad
you kept some of the Lords here? We’re arguing more than doing. And
we have to listen to it for…” She threw her hands up. “For who
knows how long.”

“I didn’t keep them here because I thought
they’d help.”

“I know,” she said. “You kept them so they
wouldn’t betray you and join Kern.”

He sighed. “And yet I let Beaumont and Alton
go, along with the group in the south. And Montagu is out there. We
know he’s betrayed us already.”

“But Beaumont and Alton and the southern
group won’t join Kern.” She paused as Daric frowned. “They won’t.
They don’t want to be subject to anyone. They’ll keep their lands
in tact, and those will be resources we need.”

“Even though it’s going to be a fight to take
them,” Daric said. “Especially knowing they hope to pick up the
broken pieces when this is all over.”

“Like Kern would allow that. They’re not the
smartest group.”

“We don’t need smart right now.” She winced
as another bout of yelling ensured. “We need quiet.”

He
almost
smiled, which was good to
see, all things considered. After the loss of his son, and now the
siege, Maren wondered if Daric would ever be the same again. He’d
recovered when his father had been murdered, but that had been in
large part due to Adare. Now, he and Adare were both living the
same nightmare. But he couldn’t dwell on his own personal pain. He
had a kingdom to hold together.

“Well, I think we’re done for the day.
You?”

She nodded as he stood and called the room to
attention – or interrupted the arguing. Then he dismissed the Lords
and sank back into his seat.

“At least I have you in these meetings.” He
ran a hand over his face. “A young woman on the Council. Even if
you weren’t you or hadn’t learned so much from your father, even if
you couldn’t help me one single bit, I would have done it just to
see their faces.”